Leaving it behind
by black4minister
Summary: The thoughts that run through Jeff's mind as he closes the door on his old life forever. The boys' perspectives, chapter 2, are finally up! In the form of a song-fic. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm back! I am still working on my other stories, this was just something I had going ages ago and just finished today. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I in no way, shape or form own the Thunderbirds. I am also broke cause this pastime doesn't pay. ;-)**

Jeff looked around his house. It was so empty, so cold. They had already put the last of their things in the car waiting outside and now there was nothing but white walls and draughty rooms. The house was never this clean, he thought to himself. He and his wife had arrived here, the boys in tow, some eighteen years ago, and it had been a mess since.

Eighteen years. God, thought Jeff, it seemed like just yesterday they had walked in the door. Lucy holding a sleeping, six month old Alan, Jeff with one year old Gordon on his hip. Eight year old Scott and six year old John had run straight upstairs to see their rooms, followed faithfully by a four year old Virgil. They had been so young, so happy.

But a lot had changed since then. Jeff had lost his dear Lucy to an avalanche, not even two years after moving in. The boys had grown, oh how! Each one was six foot now and each one had made Jeff so proud.

And now they were leaving. Leaving to live on a tropical island no one knew the location of. Of course it was for a good cause. They were going to make Jeff's brain child a reality. A rescue service that would mean no one else would have to go through the pain they had when they lost Lucy.

But that didn't make leaving any easier. Right now the boys were off saying their goodbyes. He knew it was hard for them to leave everything they had known and commit themselves to a life of secrecy, of isolation. It was why he had talked to each of them at length about going. He didn't want them to regret their decision down the line. But each of his boys had stated with complete conviction that they would gladly join the team. Jeff had been very happy to hear this. He would have his whole family with him and he could ask for no more.

He once more looked around the house. Yes, leaving would be very hard. This house was his link to his boys childhoods. He could still remember coming home from work, the boys rushing out to tell him about their day. There would always be something new the babies had learnt and some story for the dinner table.

You could still see the growth chart on the living room wall. A myriad of lines following the growth of five boys. A sad gap about half way up the wall testimony to a time no one had the heart to record anything.

And there was the dent in the hall door caused by Scott's sudden ambition to be a professional baseball pitcher. He didn't have a bad shot for a nine year old, reflected Jeff, examining the dent. Then there was the permanently broken fence post out by the gate. John swore he'd never try to teach Gordon to park again. He'd got it in the end though. The back garden had once been dug up every summer to create, respectively; a swimming pool, a tennis court, a football field, and a whole list of other things.

But there was one thing that was really niggling at Jeff. One thing that was running around his subconscious. Lucy. He knew she would approve of his plans. He knew she'd be proud of the boys for taking on such responsibility. But he couldn't shake the feeling that by leaving this house he was leaving a little bit of her behind. The whole house, even after seventeen years, still rang true with her presence.

It was she that had started the growth chart, she that had greeted him with a kiss each evening. It was in this living room that she had taught Virgil to play piano. Here she had shown Johnny the stars that had later become his career. Jeff could still see her running through the hallway, sitting on the couch, laughing at the table, even after all this time.

For the first time he faltered, truly wondered if he could leave, start new somewhere else. He had never had to make a home. That was Lucy's job, she was so good at it. 'Children make a house alive' he could still hear her say that, smiling after Virgil attempted to finger paint the walls. But the boys weren't children anymore, they were adults. Young men, as Jeff had been, not that long ago.

A horn could be heard beeping from outside, jerking Jeff from his revere. Looking out of the window, he could see that all the boys had returned. They were leaning out of the people-carrier parked outside, waving to him. They also seemed to be having a heated argument over something. He sighed, time to go for real, leave the house to some other family and hope they fared better. Or, maybe to hope they fared even half aswell would be to bless them.

Jeff opened the door and stepped out. He could now hear his sons squabbling over front seats, music choices and car speeds. He closed the door behind him for the last time, and made his way to the drivers seat. His eldest sat beside him and noted his father's quiet mode.

"It's hard, to leave this all behind" Scott gestured to the house, "It's pretty much been our whole lives"

"Pretty much?" came Alan's voice, "Try _fully_ our whole lives. I don't remember a time without this house"

"Me neither" stated Gordon, "It sure will be strange"

"Well, it won't be long before the new place feels like home" Scott once more spoke.

"Yeah" this was John, "Especially after the three babies spread their stuff everywhere for us to trip over, right Scott?"

"Sure thing" came Scott's reply, over a hail of protests.

Jeff smiled. Yes, the new house would soon feel like home. Children did make a house alive, but they didn't need to be children to do it, they just had to _your_ children. With that he put the key in the ignition and started the car. He slowly pulled away from the kerb, putting their old home in rear view mirror, moving onwards to their new life.

**A/N: So, what do you think? I tried to capture how hard it would have been to leave but that they was going onto something good for other people. Please review and tell me what you think. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The long promised boy's point of view is finally here! Originally I had planned on a chapter for each one, but realistically I was never going to write that, and I was listening to this song the other day and I just thought 'Huh, that would be perfect' So here it is, a little paragraph for each boy, and a few other bits as well.**

**I tried to get inside the boys' heads, so some of the paragraphs are more descriptive then others, some more reminiscent, etc. Hope you think I did a good job! Enjoy and review!**

**Disclaimer: Nopedy nope nope. **

Look at this photograph  
Everytime I do it makes me laugh  
How did our eyes get so red  
And what the hell is on Joey's head

The picture stood on the mantle piece. The setting sun shone through the wide glass doors, after glistening off the pool, and illuminated the silver frame. The photograph wasn't one that would normally have been picked for pride of place on a shelf. In it were five boys, young men really, all squashed into the picture. They seemed to be in some sort of car, and a quiet suburban street could just be made out through the back window. Filling the frame were the boys' faces. In the front, and seemingly falling backwards, was the oldest, dark hair cut short, and his arm outstretched, disappearing out of the shot. Obviously he had held the camera. Almost on top of him, sitting in what would be two of the three middle seats of the vehicle, were another pair of boys. One had brown hair, much like the first, except that it was falling into his eyes. He had what looked like a copy book on top of his head, and looked as though he was about to say something. The other was blond, with light blue eyes sparkling with laughter. An hand rested on his shoulder, from where another blond leaned in behind him, sitting up from one of the back two seats. He too was laughing, and letting his chin rest on the shoulder not occupied by his hand. Beside him sat the last of the photo's subjects. A shock of red hair was over shadowed by the silly face the boy was pulling, his eyes red from looking directly into the flash. It was he who was holding the copy book over the other's head. All in all it was a snapshot of the highest order, looking as though it was just an impulsive photo, born of a fit of hyperness. And yet it sat in the middle of the mantle, the first picture any visitor would see, if there were any visitors to this tropical paradise.

And this is where I grew up  
I think the present owner fixed it up  
I never knew we'd ever went without  
The second floor is hard for sneaking out

His father had been in their old house for over an hour now. John didn't want to disturb him, but neither did he want to pass up this last chance of seeing home. He liked the new house on the Island; his bedroom had an amazing view of the sky, and he couldn't wait to get working on his first book. But still, this was his home, this was where he had lived since he was seven years old. This was most of his childhood wrapped up in yellow walls and white picket fencing.

The future owners, a nice young couple, wanted to add an extension, a sun room at the back, and put a patio in the garden. His mum and dad had often talked of doing one thing or another to the house, but in the end it always stayed the same. There was never anything wrong with it, was the truth. Sure, the garden tap leaked, and the second stair squeaked, and you couldn't slam the sitting room door because the small squares of glass in it would pop out of their frames, but there was nothing wrong for them. Sometimes it had been too small, with five boisterous boys, sometimes it had seemed more like a prison than a home. But it had stood through all they'd done. And it knew them as well as they knew it. Scott had been the one to prove that sneaking out of the second floor was a bad idea, the trellis hadn't stood up to his weight. The house had proven it could take it, when a series of science experiments had set fire to the kitchen.

It had been here that John had first fallen in love with the stars. The roof had a gentle slope and on very special occasions his dad would take him up to view the night sky. His mum had called him her little star man. It was one of only a few things he remembered of her. Seven was not as old as it sounded for formulating memories, and often she was just a hazy form, made of softness and rose-petal perfume.

It had been here that they had all taken shelter after that fateful vacation that had left them one family member short. This house had seen all the tears, the tantrums and the desperate pleading that had followed her death. It had held the rest of the world at bay, when none of them could deal with other people. They owed a lot to this house, really. A lot of happiness and a lot of pain. It would be hard to leave that all behind, despite what was waiting for them on the Island.

And this is where I went to school  
Most of the time had better things to do  
Criminal record says I broke in twice  
I must have done it half a dozen times

I wonder if it's too late  
Should I go back and try to graduate  
Life's better now than it was back then  
If I was them I wouldn't let me in

It hadn't changed a bit, thought Scott, smiling at the old building. Almost eight years since he had graduated from the high school, heading off to college. He was a very different person now. Back then he had been caught by the local sheriff, more than once, breaking into the school with his friends. Usually they wanted to play in the gym, or skate down the halls, or trip wire the teacher's lounge. And they did it a lot more times then the sheriff thought. It seemed very stupid looking back now, not to mention reckless. But that was what years of growing up, and military discipline, would do for you. He doubted his old teachers would even recognise him now. Not that he had been a terrible trouble maker. He had known the importance of good grades, and he had had his brothers to think about. Still, the clean-cut, stiff-backed man standing at the doors now was a far cry from the teenager who, in alliance with his friends, had worn his graduation robes backwards, and his cap upside down, just for the heck of it.

In many ways he missed those carefree days. As much as he had loved his time in Air Force, and as much as he had jumped at the chance to join his father's rescue team, there was a lot to be said for those days when all he had to worry about was homework, and whether or not his girlfriend was mad at him. It had been a lot simpler.

Oh, oh, oh  
Oh, god, I

Every memory of looking out the back door  
I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor  
It's hard to say it, time to say it  
Goodbye, goodbye.  
Every memory of walking out the front door  
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for  
It's hard to say it, time to say it  
Goodbye, goodbye.

Remember the old arcade  
Blew every dollar that we ever made  
The cops hated us hangin' out  
They say somebody went and burned it down

The money they'd sunk in that old arcade, thought Gordon. He would go with his friends, sometimes with his brothers as well, and they'd spend hours playing games. There weren't even any particularly good games in the place, there was just no where else to go. Still, they'd had so much fun hanging out there, being told to move on by the sheriff. That sheriff hadn't really liked the five of them that much. It had something to do with him being jealous of their father in high school, and something more to do with the crush his not-so-little little princess had had on Virgil. Not that Virg would ever do anything less than gentlemanly, but still, the threat was always there.

The only thing left now of the old arcade was a burnt and blackened shell. Gordon had been away in training at the time of the fire, early last year, but his dad had told him about it. It was a pity, he thought, for the youngsters in the town to have lost that. He had so many good memories from it. Maybe he'd talk to dad about sponsoring something else to go in it's place. Maybe a sports hall, or even a new arcade. After all, they could afford it, and there was lots of different ways to help people.

We used to listen to the radio  
And sing along with every song we know  
We said someday we'd find out how it feels  
To sing to more than just the steering wheel

Virgil laughed as a car load of teenagers drove by, the radio blaring one of the latest chart-toppers. It seemed like only yesterday that he and his friends would pile into Dave's beat up old pick-up and go for a ride. They never had anywhere to actually go, they just liked being together, singing along loudly to whatever happened to be on the radio. They'd all been musical in that bunch, and they'd often joked, and dreamed, of being in a band, touring the world, being famous. He was simultaneously closer and further away from that dream than he ever thought he would be. On the one hand he had a scout, who he'd bumped into at a open-mike night once, who called ever second day to try and convince him to record a CD of him playing the piano. On the other, he had chosen to study engineering, and was about to dedicate his life to the rescue business, run from a remote island in the middle of nowhere. Touring was certainly out. Still, you never knew what was going to happen in the future. He still loved music as much as the first day he had sat at the piano. He had his mother to thank for that. When they were all children she had often played and sung for them. And she had been delighted when he had expressed an interest in learning. They would sit together in the living room, and she would put her hands over his, guiding him through the key movements.

It had been a full year and half after she died before he could bear to play anything. When he finally did step back up to the piano he found himself playing his mother's favourite piece; symphony no. 1 by Mozart. Mozart had written it when he was only eight, and Virgil's mother had once said she loved how it went from slow and thoughtful to fast and lively. She said it was just like life, which was full of ups and downs. He had cried shamelessly when he had played it that first time after her death.

Kim's the first girl I kissed  
I was so nervous that I nearly missed  
She's had a couple of kids since then  
I haven't seen her since god knows when

"Why do you have to go, Alan?" Gabby lent her head against his shoulder, chestnut hair flowing around her face, his chest supporting her back.

The eighteen year old sighed, hugging his girlfriend a little closer to him, "We just do, petal. I know it's hard, and you don't really understand, but we just can't stay here"

Gabby sighed, leaning into his embrace, "No, it's alright. I do understand why you can't stay here. I just wish it wasn't true"

Alan sighed. Gabby thought she understood, thought that, after all this time, his father had finally given up trying to forge a life in the town where he'd lost his wife. And Alan had let her think it, it wasn't as though there was a better explanation he could offer.

He hugged her a little closer. He was going to miss her. They had been going out for over two years. He had been so nervous on their first date, he'd nearly head butted her trying to kiss her at the end of the night. Gordon still teased him about it, though how his brother had found out he didn't think he wanted to know. Gabby had been good for him, quietening down his fiery temper, and his impetuous nature. He had been there for her when her dad had finally pushed her mum over the edge and left them.

He'd miss everything about this town, in fact. As much as he had dreamed of getting out of it when he was a child. He could see all of the main street from up on this hill, his and Gabby's spot. There was the school, which he'd only left last month. The church, which his grandmother had often dragged them to in their youth, something about saving their immortal souls, or her own, he was never sure. The hardware store, where he had worked on and off; the playground, he hadn't been there in a while; the diner where he and his friends liked to go and drink their weight in chocolate milkshakes. Yes, there was a lot for him to miss. He couldn't remember living anywhere else, as they had moved here when he was just six months old.

They had all moved here, but only six of them would be moving away. That was what he had been most reluctant about when his father had brought up the possibility of buying a tropical island. He was the only one of his brothers who had no memories at all of their mother. This town was his link to her. She was buried in the local cemetery, and he had found himself standing there more than once after a big fight with his father. But he was only talking to a piece of stone, a photograph he'd seen. He didn't have any sense of her for himself. But this town had held her. There was old Mrs. Johnson, who lived down the street from them, and had known his family since they moved. She often told Alan stories about his mother. Then there was the store she shopped in, the park she took them to to play. They were silly little things, but they were all he had. For along time his father wouldn't talk about her at all, and so Alan had had to depend on these links to her, and John, who seemed to understand that it was more important to tell Alan about his mother than to smoother his own pain.

Gabby sat up, pulling him out of his reverie. The time had come to say goodbye. He stood with her, and, not one for long goodbyes, kissed her before turning away. He almost stopped when she called "Maybe I'll see you again". Alan was under no illusions. It was unlikely that he would ever see her again. She would find someone else, and get married, and have kids. And him? Well, he was a bit young to be thinking about that kinda stuff anyway. It'd work itself out.

Oh, oh, oh  
Oh, god, I

Every memory of looking out the back door  
I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor  
It's hard to say it, time to say it  
Goodbye, goodbye.  
Every memory of walking out the front door  
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for  
It's hard to say it, time to say it  
Goodbye, goodbye.

By some strange and unplanned synchronisation, all four boys returned to the car at the same time, meeting John, who, of course, had been there all along. Using Scott's spare key they unlocked the doors and would have gotten in if the three younger ones hadn't started an argument about who got to sit where. It lasted for almost five minutes before Scott waded in, using his superior position as oldest.

"Stop!" It was an order. "Gordon, Alan, get in the back seats. John and Virgil in the centre, I'm in the front. Got it?" A few mutinous mutterings and an amused look from John, and all five piled into the car. After everyone was settled they all found themselves looking out the windows at the house. A rare silence filled the space, broken by Alan.

"I can't believe we're finally leaving. For real"

John turned in his seat to glance at his youngest brother. "Imagine where we're going though, kiddo. Tropical island, all the adventure and adrenaline you could ever want"

"And think of all the lives we're about to make better" added Scott, who had also turned in his seat.

"Yeah!" chipped in Gordon, producing what looked like a copy book from beside him, "I found this stuffed in a corner of the store cupboard in the house. It's from a project we did in school back when I was maybe six. We all had to write down what we wanted to be when we grew up and we had to ask our siblings too. Wanna here what we said?"

That got everyone's attention, and they all turned to listen, not being able to remember what they had aspired to all those years ago.

"I" Gordon began, "Wanted to be a professional swimmer – no surprise there, and I did it. And I said that after that I wanted to do something that would stop bad things happening in the world. Sprout, who was only five at the time, wanted to be a race car driver, and help save people like his mum" There was a pause but Gordon continued, "Virgil said he wanted to build rescue machines that would be able to find anyone right away, so no one would ever be left needing help. John, the genius eleven year old, said he wanted to work for NASA, and if he couldn't do that then he wanted to work on a communications system that would make it easier for rescue workers to find victims. And I spelt victims wrong" he laughed, "And flyboy over there said he wanted to fly search and rescue planes, very fast ones" The red head looked up, grinning, "Now I don't know about you guys, but I'm detecting a theme here"

The others grinned back, expect Scott. He was smiling, but it was half-sad, half-remembering kind of smile, and he was staring into space. John calling his name pulled him back. His smile widened.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. I remember that assignment now. After Gordy's teacher saw it she called dad and suggested he hire a child psychiatrist for us – one specialising in grieve" There was a pause, then the whole car erupted into laughter.

Gordon, however, would not be side-tracked. "The point" he started again, poking Alan, "Is that we're leaving to do what we all wanted more than anything. We're going to be doing all that stuff, all the helping and the rescuing, you know?"

Alan nodded, a far away look back in his eyes, "I know. Still though. It's strange to think we probably won't ever be back here. Or even if we are, it'll only be for flying visits. It won't be home any more"

Scott pursed his lips, sensing how hard this was for Alan, for all of them really. Then he smiled and held up the compact camera that was kept in the glove-box. "Well, if it really is our last time here, I for one would like something to remember it by. So huddle up and smile. And no funny faces Gordon!"

Gordon pulled one just for Scott, as the five of them tried to arrange themselves in the very small space. Scott, who was holding the camera for the shot, pushed himself between the front seats, propping himself up, with John and Virgil leaning in on either side. Gordon and Alan pulled themselves forward too, until they were all squashed into the frame. At the last possible moment Gordon put the copy book on top of Virgil's head, and pulled a stupid face. They all dissolved into laughter the minute the picture was taken.

"This one's a keeper" chuckled Scott, as he dragged himself back into the front seat.

"Definitely!" agreed Virgil. He then looked towards the house again. "How much longer do you think dad will be?"

John glanced at his watch, "Yeah, our flight is booked for three, we'll miss it if we don't head off soon" He gestured towards the driver's seat, "Blow the horn, Scott, let him know we're all ready"

As Scott did just that, Gordon spoke up, "We wouldn't have to leave so soon if dad hired something that went over thirty-five mph"

This sparked an argument with Virgil about the prowess of one engine over another. Alan complained once more about the youngests always having to sit in the back and started another argument. Scott let it wash over him as he beeped the horn again, putting his arm out the window to gesture to his father, whom he could see at the front door.

I miss that town  
I miss the faces  
You can't erase  
You can't replace it  
I miss it now  
I can't believe it  
So hard to stay  
Too hard to leave it

If I could I relive those days  
I know the one thing that would never change

The photo sat in pride of place because it meant something to everyone of the five boys. It was not the last time they ever set foot in that town, but it was the last time they ever called it home. Jeff didn't mind it being there. They never did explain it to him, but they didn't need to – he understood.  
Every memory of looking out the back door  
I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor  
It's hard to say it, time to say it  
Goodbye, goodbye.  
Every memory of walking out the front door  
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for  
It's hard to say it, time to say it  
Goodbye, goodbye.

Look at this photograph  
Everytime I do it makes me laugh  
Everytime I do it makes me...

**A/N: So? What did you guys think? I know anyone who read the first chapter of this is probably dead by now, I posted it such a long time ago, but I can't control my muse, she's a law unto herself! Review!!**


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